Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb? Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be With the fears and the love for that which we see? TO **** ΔΑΚΡΥΕΙ ΔΙΟΙΣΩ ΠΟΤΜΟΝ ΑΠΟΤΜΟΝ. OH! there are spirits in the air, As star-beams among twilight trees : Such lovely ministers to meet Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet. With mountain winds, and babbling springs, And mountain seas, that are the voice Thou didst hold commune, and rejoice And thou hast sought in starry eyes To a fond faith! still dost thou pine? Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope Did thine own mind afford no scope Of love, or moving thoughts to thee? That natural scenes or human smiles Could steal the power to wind thee in their wiles. Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted; Night's ghost and dreams have now departed; Thine own soul still is true to thee, But changed to a foul fiend through misery. This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever Be as thou art. Thy settled fate, TO WORDSWORTH. POET of Nature, thou hast wept to know Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow, STANZAS.-APRIL, 1814. AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away! Tempt not with one last glance thy friend's ungentle mood: Thy lover's eye, su glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay: Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude. Away, away! to thy sad and silent home; Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come, The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace may meet. The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose, L Thou in the grave shalt rest-yet till the phantoms flee Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings, are not free From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile. LINES. THE cold earth slept below, With a chilling sound, From caves of ice and fields of snow, The wintry hedge was black, The green grass was not seen, On the bare thorn's breast, Whose roots, beside the pathway track, Thine eyes glowed in the glare Of the moon's dying light, As a fen-fire's beam On a sluggish stream Gleams dimly-so the moon shone there, The moon made thy lips pale, beloved; On thy dear head Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie Where the bitter breath of the naked sky FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE. I HATED thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave Too late, since thou and France are in the dust, |